


Artist's Loving Hand

by Tonight_At_Noon



Series: Jyn and Cassian AUs [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Cassian, F/M, Humor, Leia the Best Friend, Model Jyn, Romance, Sexual Content, and that's all that really matters, eventually, no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonight_At_Noon/pseuds/Tonight_At_Noon
Summary: Jyn is a closet rebel. Her affluent and influential parents have no idea that since she was a child, she has been breaking all of the rules behind their backs with her best friend Leia by her side. But her time as a troublemaker might be coming to a close: she is leaving Washington DC for Cambridge University at the end of the week. Though she hopes to have fun over there, it won’t be the same without Leia. With only a few days left, Jyn decides she must do one final crazy thing. As luck would have it, a student at George Washington University is in need of a nude model for his latest painting.





	Artist's Loving Hand

**Author's Note:**

> My first Rebelcaptain fic in almost a year. Wow. But I was struck with a sprinkle of inspiration and finally got around to working some more on this story. 
> 
> Updates will be irregular. I've got the whole thing fleshed out, but between my two jobs and schoolwork, life tends to get in the way of writing. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

_Weathered faces lined in pain/_

_Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand_

Vincent | Don McLean

*** * ***

The world around Jyn is spinning. She feels like Joseph Gordon-Levitt in _Inception_ in the famous antigravity hallway scene. The ground has moved to the sky. She is walking on stars.

She is free to wander the galaxy. It welcomes her with open arms and sends her on her way. She dances over Orion. Flies on the wings of Pegasus. 

Jyn has heard the saying _in space, no one can hear you scream_ many times, but she slowly realises as she steps into Aquarius’ water stream that this is a myth. A lie. Here, amongst the stars, she can hear somebody screaming. Their voice is familiar, and it is enough to bring the stars toppling over her. 

“Jyn, you’re starting to sag. What did I tell you about keeping yourself on your feet?” 

Opening her eyes a fraction, Jyn finds herself not in the midnight blue sky but rather stumbling on a concrete pavement a few yards from her parent’s house in the suburbs of Washington DC, held up only by two figures either side of her. 

Leia Organa and Han Solo guide Jyn towards the large house. Jyn can hear Han huffing (he loves to huff, especially when around Jyn—he finds her very trying) in annoyance each time Jyn starts to lag. She can hardly help it—she’s absolutely blasted. Walking is very difficult when all of your senses are impaired due to an excess of alcohol in your system. 

“What did I just say, Jyn?” Leia says sternly, sounding incredibly like Jyn’s mother. 

“To not sag,” she slurs. “I’m not sagging.”

Han hoists Jyn up, demonstrating that she was, in fact, sagging. “Yeah, of course you’re not.” 

Jyn sticks her tongue out at Han. She has never been the biggest fan of Leia’s hotshot boyfriend. He hates going out with them because he’s afraid his senator father will disown him if he finds out how much he enjoys the taste of a jack and coke. 

“Real mature, Erso. Why are you friends with her again, Leia?” Han asks, as if Jyn wasn’t there at all. 

Leia makes this clicking noise with her tongue that Jyn knows all too well. It’s her _I thought I’ve asked you not to bring that up_ noise. Even so, she supplies an answer, “Because when your dad is an Army General with a giant stick up his ass, you try to find anyone who can take you away from the dull life you lead.”

“And I don’t do that?” Han says.

Leia laughs. It sounds like a cough in Jyn’s rustling ears. “No, Han. You’re afraid of fun. You’re allergic to it.”

“Guys,” Jyn whines, eyelids drooping, “stop fighting.”

Their voices cease, but only because they have reached the house. Jyn smiles at the giant piece of property with its bulging front. All of the lights are off except for a small nightlight in Jyn’s bedroom which just barely illuminates the left side of the house. 

Leia and Han help the struggling drunkard climb the stone steps, veering to the left before they reach the second set. There is a sturdy trellis that leads to Jyn’s window, which she always keeps unlocked. They drag her limp body towards it. Ivy coils around the wooden squares. With Leia’s help, she clasps ahold of the makeshift rungs. Turning her head to face her saviours, she smiles at them lazily. 

“You guys are the best,” she applauds. “Really, really the best.”

They both tap their feet, waiting for her to get a move on. She rolls her eyes so hard the ground trembles, but she blinks heavily to shake away the feeling that the earth could swallow her whole at any moment and begins to climb. She rocks and sways, but Han is right behind her, following her up the trellis, making sure she doesn’t fall. She reaches the window and gives it a light tap. It swings open and she climbs inside, landing flat on her floor with a breathless giggle. 

She is still on the hardwood when Leia and Han join her. Together, they carry her to the king-sized bed. Leia removes her stiletto heels—she feels the blisters against her pinky toe and the back of her ankle burst in the process. She mewls in pain, but Leia just clicks her tongue. _I thought I told you before that you need to be quiet_. 

Jyn curls on her bed, a wave of tiredness washing over her. She is suddenly very exhausted. The night is beginning to wear on her. Leia forces her up for a moment to remove her leather jacket, which sticks to her bare arms due to the copious amount of sweat spilling from her drunken pores. When she manages to tug it off, she tucks Jyn beneath her light comforter and kisses her forehead. 

Jyn smiles and watches Han and Leia stand above her. They are her second set of parents. Always taking care of her when she finds herself in these states. Leia secretly loves it. She told Jyn one night after a few too many drinks. It’s how their friendship—their bond—works. Jyn is the life of the party, and Leia is happy to follow her lead. Han, on the other hand, looks down at her disapprovingly. Jyn ignores his cold eyes.

“You know,” Leia says quietly, stroking a piece of Jyn’s fringe out of her eyes. “This might be the last time we’re able to do this.”

“Oh, how awful,” Han says sarcastically. 

Leia elbows him in the side. Han must muffle his pained grunt. 

“Seriously,” she says. She looks like she could cry. Leia never cries. “With Jyn leaving for Cambridge at the end of the week, this could very well be our last night out. You’ll have to find some English assholes to take care of you when you get there.”

Jyn is in no position to have a meaningful conversation about her departure for university in her home country at the end of the week. But she notices her best friend’s distress and reaches out for her hand. “I’ll be back for holidays,” Jyn assures her. She spots Han rolling his eyes, but chooses to ignore him. “And in the meantime, I promise not to get outrageously drunk.”

It is a joke, but none of them can laugh out of fear of waking Jyn’s parents.

“We should get going. Han’s got a big day tomorrow with daddy. Wouldn’t want him to be too tired,” Leia says teasingly. 

Han throws his arm over Leia’s shoulders and shoots a halfhearted goodbye to Jyn. The pair walk across Jyn’s large bedroom towards the window. Leia blows Jyn a kiss before vanishing down the trellis. 

Jyn feels like a feather floating atop her bed. A tired feather. Her eyelids grow heavy. They fall, plunging the young woman into darkness. 

*** * ***   


Someone was knocking very loudly against her eardrum. Jyn opens her bleary, bloodshot eyes, unable to focus on anything in the room. God, her brain is on fire. She presses her palms to her eyes. She can feel her temples pulsing. 

Another knock. Louder and more urgent. 

“Jyn, it’s nearly ten o’clock. You need to wake up!” 

Running her shaking hands down her face, Jyn bites her elbows into the mattress and slowly sits up. A gargle starts deep in her stomach. She opens her dry mouth, a flurry of saliva pouring from their glands, and leaps off the bed.

“Are you going to get up?”

“I’m awake, Mum!” Jyn cries, breathless, as she races to her en suite. Tilting her head over the toilet, she gags until there is a release.

She pants, falling to the floor. Resting her head on the cool, disgusting toilet, Jyn stares at the sky-blue wall to her left, her mind buzzing. 

Here is a secret: Jyn Erso is a closet rebel. She always has been, ever since she was a young girl. The only child of top tier medical doctors, Jyn spent her early years being raised by a male nanny, Saw Gerrera. 

It wasn’t that her parents didn’t love her, or that she felt disconnected to them and angry at them for never being around. She loved her mother and her father, and they loved her. They were busy, though. Saving lives and discovering new diseases and cures for those new diseases. 

Nothing incredibly bad happened to her, either. Saw was strict, but he was also a trained military man and he spent long hours teaching Jyn all about stealth tactics and countless types of self defence. Little did he know, he was fanning the rebellious flame inside of her. 

Jyn has no reason for acting the way she does. She does it because fighting conformity excites her. It fills her with such pleasure and joy. Doing bad makes her feel so very good.

When they moved to America, her parents decided that, at age 12, she was old enough to take care of herself. Goodbye Saw, hello trouble. It was a slow descent into madness, but she has enjoyed the six-year long ride. 

As the years have passed, she has struggled to keep her Night Self (fun, drunken, and up for just about anything) separate from her Day Self (charming, intelligent, the perfect daughter). Some nights she will accidentally fall asleep in a stranger’s house beside Leia and Han which will force her to sprint home in order to keep her parents from becoming too suspicious. Some days she will be meeting George Washington University Hospital donors at a lavish party dressed in a fancy designer gown and her stomach will turn and roil, forcing her to excuse herself and retch into a toilet. 

It is all very precarious. But, as she continually reminds both herself and Leia, she has yet to be found out. And soon, she won’t be forced to keep her Night Self restrained. Soon, she will be out in the world on her own, far enough away from her parents that she won’t need to worry about disappointing them. England brings with it so many opportunities for bad behaviour. 

She is both happy and sad to be leaving, of course. Leia cannot follow her across the pond, and that sours everything just a little. University also brings with it a whole new line of responsibilities. She can’t very well fail out of school. She must keep her grades up if she is to follow in her parent’s footsteps. 

But when she isn’t worried about the chances of her _not_ becoming a doctor, she will be living her best life in the shittiest pubs Cambridge has to offer. And nobody will be able to stop her. 

Her breathing finally having calmed, Jyn lifts herself from the floor—slow, so as to not disrupt her balance—and steps to the right towards the sink. She turns on the cold tap, staring at herself in the mirror. Her dark, short hair is a total mess. Her fringe is swept up to one side, the rest is at the back in the shape of a bird’s nest. Sweat coats her sallow skin. Deep purple and blue bags cling under her eyes. 

She looks horrid. 

She washes her hands thoroughly, gargles a bit of water, and decides she is in desperate need of a bathe before she can go down to face her parents. Abandoning the bathroom, she gathers a fresh change of clothes—a pretty dress with pink flowers her mother bought her ( _AKA_ : overcompensation for her Night Self’s behaviour)—and returns to start the shower. Searing hot water rains over her aching body. She comes across bruises and scrapes as she lathers her body in grapefruit shower gel. What the hell did she get up to last night? She will have to check in with Leia.

With her head pounding only once every five seconds as she exits the steaming bathroom, Jyn admires her flowery dress in the full-length mirror by her stacked bookshelf and exits the room, her stomach now, thankfully, rumbling for a bit of food. The scent of pancakes twirls in the air and she descends the long, spiralling staircase quickly. Her father makes the best pancakes in all of the world. 

“We thought you’d died, you know,” her father says when she enters over the kitchen’s threshold. He sits at the table at the far end of the grey and blue room, a stack of thin pancakes in front of him. Her mother is beside him. She sprinkles some icing sugar on a pancake and rolls it up, spearing it with her knife and fork.

Jyn goes to them, smiling through the pain. She swears her skull could split open at any moment. 

Scraping a chair on the wooden floor, Jyn laughs sardonically at her father’s joke and sits. “Oh, Papa, I can just feel the concern in your voice,” she says. Grabbing a plate and two pancakes, Jyn prepares them with some lemon juice and icing sugar. 

“That dress looks lovely on you,” her mum compliments, nodding towards Jyn. 

“Thanks for getting it for me, Mum” Jyn says. Her mother—who she looks just like, to the point it makes Jyn cry if she’s really had too much to drink—buys her clothes a lot. Jyn thinks it’s her way of apologising for being gone all of the time. A lot of the dresses and shirts aren’t Jyn’s style and she usually leaves them hanging in her closet. But whenever she feels extra guilty about spending half of her time at wild parties with fellow wild people, Jyn will pop on some mum-bought item. “I really like it. The colours are gorgeous.” 

“They make your eyes pop,” her mum says in agreement. 

Jyn smiles at her mother in silent thanks and moves her attention to her father, who has been staring at her since she sat down. She starts tearing into her pancake. “What’s the matter, Papa?” 

“I am just going to miss you is all,” he says. His words, his admission, surprise Jyn. The Danish-born man is typically very reserved. He leans back in his chair. “What are your plans for the day?”

The moment has passed. It always does. 

Jyn lifts her shoulders noncommittally. “Probably some more packing.” _More_. As if she has started at all. Her room is still jammed with her things. “I’ve only got five days to go, so I guess that needs to take top priority.”

“Yes. Remember not to take too much. Rooms over in England are smaller than here. Especially for first years,” he says. 

“I know, Papa,” Jyn says. “I’ll keep my suitcases light.”

Jyn grabs her second pancake as a beeping noise enters the room. Her father’s beloved pager. The man has been constantly on-call since Jyn was a babe in arms. 

He checks the rectangular device and immediately stands. “Got to go,” he says, re-tucking his dress shirt. He looks at Jyn. “Good luck with packing, Stardust.” 

_Stardust_. Jyn will miss hearing him call her that. It has been her nickname for years, starting when she was five and became obsessed with fairies. 

_What makes them fly, Papa_ she would ask. 

_Stardust_ was his answer. 

Galen Erso comes around the table and kisses both Jyn and her mother on the head before departing the kitchen. 

“Well,” says her mother as she stands and begins clearing the table, “finish that and get on with packing.”

“I will,” Jyn promises.

She won’t. 

She will finish her food and go upstairs to check her email account and see if anybody has reached out through the GWU Classifieds looking for a model. 

It isn’t really as daring as some of her other activities ( _see_ getting pissed with strangers and waking up in unknown places), but if her parents knew she spent her Sunday afternoons posing for the lousy liberal arts kids at George Washington alone in their art studios, they would have a fit.

They didn’t necessarily dislike the artistic types, but they definitely looked down upon them. Their arrogance on the subject is the sole reason Jyn forewent an English degree and joined the medicine program like they had always wanted. 

Once her plate is clean, Jyn makes her way upstairs. She closes the door to her room, locking it, and jumps on her bed. From inside her bedside table’s drawer she produces her laptop. Excitedly, the hungover girl opens it and finds her email. Several _pings_ echo from the speakers. She turns the volume down, scanning the subject lines for any mention of the word _model_. Upon close inspection, there are a total of five. But only one catches her full attention. 

**_Nude Female Model Wanted. Must be 18 years or older to apply_**. 

Surprisingly, for the length of time she has been doing this she has never found an ad for a _nude_ model before. Curiosity takes over and Jyn clicks on the email. She is transported to a website for someone named Cassian Andor. The site is backlit in blue and there are dozens of pages of his work, the majority of which feature naked women. Above his name is a banner: **_Nude Female Model Wanted. Must be 18 years or older to apply. Email at C.Andor.Art@gmail.com if interested._**

Jyn has gone to art galleries before. She has seen the famous naked statues the Romans copied off the Greeks. She has seen the bare women whose hair covertly shields their breasts. But compared to Cassian Andor’s paintings, those pieces are uninspired and surviving on half-lives. 

The way he has painted these women . . . Jyn has to hold her breath as she scrolls through his gallery. His colours are blended like heaven. There is nothing gratuitous about the nudity, either. It is all so essential and stunning. 

Without tearing her eyes from the screen, Jyn reaches underneath her pillow for her phone. She calls out to Siri and asks the disembodied woman to call Leia. 

Leia picks up almost instantly. She always does. “Ugh, thank God,” she says tiredly. “Han would not shut up about how much he hates his dad. You’ve saved me.”

Jyn smiles, though her focus never wavers from the images before her. “I’m happy to be of service. Um, I’m in need of a bit of advice.”

“Fire away.”

“Okay. . . .” She pauses, not sure how to broach the subject. “You know I do the modelling thing for the GW artists, yeah?” 

“Yes. Has one of your paintings sold for a million dollars, but the guy’s refusing to give you a cent?”

“Nothing like that. It’s about an offer I’ve just received. I’m wondering if I should take it or not.” 

“What’s the offer?” Leia sounds dubious. 

“It’s for a nude model,” Jyn replies, stretching out the words. “It’s mad, but this guy’s stuff is some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Leia takes a moment to respond. Jyn chews on her lips while she waits, clicking on different paintings. 

Is she brave enough for this?

“You’re eighteen,” Leia says.

“I am . . . ?” 

“Yeah, so it’s not creepy. Also, you’re about to move to another country.”

“Your point being?” Jyn asks, adjusting her position on the bed. Her heart is thrumming away in her chest in anticipation. 

If Leia says she should do it, she will do it. 

“My point is that this can be like a last hurrah,” Leia explains. “One final rebellious act of the great Jyn Erso.”

“So,” Jyn breathes, “you think I should go for it?”

“Jyn,” her best friends says, “I really think you should.”

That’s it. “Okay, then. I’ll email him. Oh my God, I’m going to be a nude model for some random person!” she squeals quietly, hoping her mother doesn’t catch any of what she’s saying. 

“Ugh, Han is calling again,” Leia complains. “I gotta go. Love you, Jyn, you naughty girl.”

“Bite me, Organa. Say hi to Han for me,” she says sweetly. 

Leia laughs bitterly. “He’ll so love that. Oh, don’t get murdered okay?”

“What?” 

“He’s not gonna be happy if I don't pick up. Bye!” 

Leia hangs up before Jyn can get a proper explanation. 

Jyn turns her attention to her computer screen again. No way this guy is a killer. His paintings are too innocent. 

With shaking fingers, Jyn clicks on the tab for her email and hits the _Compose_ button:

_Dear Mr. Andor,_

_I would be interested in modelling for you sometime this week. I am eighteen and have experience. Attached are some photographs for reference, as well as some portraits other artists have painted of me._

_I am best reached through phone. If you think I am right for the job, please call me._

_Regards,_

_Jyn Erso_

Before she can chicken out, Jyn locates and attaches the aforementioned files and types in her phone number. She hovers the mouse over _Send_ , closes her eyes, and presses down. A whooshing noise blows through the room. She cracks her eyelids.

_Message successfully sent._

“What the fuck am I doing?” she asks herself, closing her laptop and hopping out of bed. Her headache is completely gone and to expel some nervous energy, Jyn hops up and down, shaking out her fingers. 

“Jyn, darling!” her mum calls from just outside the room. 

She stops moving, breathing hard, and turns towards the door. “Yes?” 

“I’ve got some cardboard boxes out here for you. You must get packing,” she says.

“Thanks, Mum.”

Jyn waits for a second. Listening for her mum’s retreating footsteps, she goes to the door and grabs the boxes. While she anxiously awaits Cassian Andor’s response to her proposal, she might as well actually get some work done.

 _One final rebellious act_ , Jyn thinks to herself, unfolding one of the boxes and looking around the room. And what a crazy rebellious act it is.


End file.
